


Birthday Boy

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sam, Food Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rimming, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: Written for Fall 2020SPN_Masqueradefor the prompt:Sam wants to celebrate Dean's 40th birthday and asks him what he would like. A party? Binge drinking and hustling pool like the old days? NO! What Dean wants is for Sam to buy him a grocery store birthday cake, strip naked, and sit on it nice and slowly for him. Then Dean wants to lick it off his ass, balls, cock, and hole ... Happy fucking birthday Dean.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 150
Collections: SPN_Masquerade Fall 2020





	Birthday Boy

“I hate you.”

Dean grins, all bright and smug. “No, you don’t.”

“I really hate you,” Sam reiterates as he folds his hands over his dick. He tries not to shiver, standing ass-naked in the map room while Dean stares at him, seated and fully clothed, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. “Like, really, really.” Sam hopes the fire in his eyes and rough twist of his mouth says how much he means it.

Apparently not, because Dean leans back in his chair and crosses his ankles over one another.

(Sam has to admit it’s a mighty fine view, though, to eye his brother’s long, slim lines all stretched out)

“You love me,” Dean says, voice dark, yet pleased.

Sam sighs, because this is the stupidest damn thing Dean has ever had him do. And he’s asked Sam for a lot of stupid things in their lives. “I absolutely do not.”

Still with that pleased-as-fuck smile, Dean folds his hands behind his head. “You love me so much that you’re giving me the best birthday present a brother could ever ask for.”

“Then why am I the one in my birthday suit?”

“Because you love me,” he sing-songs. Then, “Now sit.”

It’s not quite an order, but growing up under Dean’s thumb means Sam does pretty much anything his big brother asks of him. So he braces himself on the edge of the map table, keeps his eyes on Dean, and squats onto the three-tier white birthday cake.

“There go, Sammy. Get it all in there now.”

Sam huffs and refuses to look at his brother, because the sound of his voice curls deep in Sam’s gut and tells him that Dean is enjoying the hell out of this. Meanwhile, Sam is pretty damn embarrassed and prays Dean’s had enough to drink tonight that he’ll forget this ever happened.

“C’mon now, swing those hips, sweetheart. I know you got it in you to make this sexy for me.”

It’s goading; Dean is definitely goading him, but it doesn’t mean that Sam can’t admit that it’s an oddly thrilling sensation to have the cool buttercream smearing his skin. And when he shifts just the right way, he can feel the frosting spread over his hole and _oh_ , okay, that’s interesting ...

“Sit back and get it all up in your undercarriage.”

That makes Sam open his eyes and he finds Dean with a lopsided smile that disappears behind a quick swig of whiskey.

Still, Sam listens, and he pushes himself back further on the cake so his balls and dick drag into the buttercream.

“Goddamn,” Dean groans as he gets up. He joins Sam at the table, carefully sets his glass to the side, and slowly turns back to Sam. “You know how good you look right now?”

“I look like an asshole,” Sam complains.

Dean tips Sam’s chin up and brushes Sam’s lips with his own in a barely-there kiss. “You look good enough to eat.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but when Dean runs his finger through the frosting on his dick, he gets a little fascinated in the proceedings. And when Dean licks his finger, dipping it deep inside his mouth and pulling it out with a pop, well, shit. Sam’s dick starts rising off the cake and his heart beats a little faster.

“You wanna try?” Dean brings his finger up between Sam’s balls, making Sam moan and shift on the cake, then presents the frosting- tipped finger to Sam’s lips. “Ever wanted to taste yourself?”

He starts to roll his eyes again, but he has to admit he’s getting pretty turned on with every touch, no matter how seemingly innocent it is. The cool buttercream definitely adds a new sensation down there and Dean’s murky tone is stirring something deep in Sam’s chest.

Dean puts his finger to Sam’s mouth, coated in white and seeming desperately like something else the same color, so Sam opens his lips and licks at the frosting before drawing Dean’s finger further into his mouth. Now Dean’s the one moaning as Sam swirls his tongue around Dean’s finger, sucking and pulling on it like he would his dick.

“Fuck, Sammy,” he breathes out, and Sam smiles around his finger before it disappears and Dean gets right down to business.

There are few words as Dean manhandles Sam over, pushing him face first down on the map table. His hands spread Sam’s cheeks apart then Dean’s down on the ground and eating up all the buttercream, starting on the outside of Sam’s ass and working his way in.

It’s a slow death because Dean is earnestly licking through the mess of frosting and really taking his time. Sam can’t stop the way his hips take on a life of their own and push back into Dean’s mouth with every touch or how his chest clenches with every wet noise of Dean licking and swallowing and practically slurping his way through the buttercream.

Dean thumbs down Sam’s crack and pushes at his hole, finally slipping it inside. More wet, licking sounds and Sam imagines Dean’s cleaning out the frosting from his ass, and shit, that makes Sam’s dick stand at attention, bumping the underside of the table.

“You good?” Dean asks, a smile obvious in his voice.

Sam nods against the table. “Yeah.” _Real good_ , but he won’t admit. Not yet.

Again, Dean dips his thumb inside and there’s that sound of him licking and clearing off his thumb with a satisfied moan. “You sure do taste good.”

“Oh, good,” Sam says flatly. “I was worried about that.”

With a laugh, Dean smacks Sam’s ass and buttercream loudly splatters everywhere. “Everything’s better with frosting.” He leans in to lick on a long stripe up Sam’s crack and hums loudly. “Especially you.”

“Don’t you know,” Sam huffs when Dean keeps licking and teasing at his hole. “You’re not supposed to …” Then Dean slips a finger in and Sam sucks in a breath. “… play with your food.”

“I can’t help it when my food looks this pretty.” Dean hooks ooks his finger and Sam moans, hitching his hips into the touch. “So damn pretty, Sammy.”

Another smack to Sam’s ass sends frosting flying down his leg and on the table. When he’s not whimpering at the press of Dean’s finger, he sighs knowing he’ll have to clean it all up.

It is Dean’s birthday after all …

Soon enough, there’s the distinct jangle of Dean’s belt unbuckling and Sam pants at the need to have Dean finish what he started. Sam’s body thrums at the image they must make, him bent over the map table, hands spreading out over countries they’ve never seen, full-on bare for his brother who’s completely clothed and about to tear them apart.

Dean must be thinking the same thing because he croons, “Lookin’ real good, Sammy,” as he runs his dick up and down the center of Sam’s ass.

“You’re welcome,” Sam replies, curt and trying to hide how much this is turning him on. No way he’s going to give Dean that satisfaction. 

Not yet.

Dean chuckles as he pushes the head of his dick to Sam’s hole, rubbing it all around the rim. “Can’t wait to open up my present.”

Sam presses his forehead to the table and smiles, because even when his brother is being a total moron about it all, he’s pretty fucking excited, too.

With some extra lube, Dean finally slides in and gives a few tiny thrusts to ease into it. Normally the one for patience, Sam finds himself rocking back immediately and seeking out the heat of his brother’s body tucked against his own.

Then Dean slides out a few inches and drives back in quick and hard, frosting and skin smacking together. “Well ain’t that a nice sound?” he asks with a dark laugh.

“Feels real nice, too,” Sam groans, lowering his voice with Dean’s.

Dean runs his hands through the buttercream on the outside of Sam’s hips then up his back, spreading it across his skin, sticky and cool. “It does, doesn’t?” He grabs hold of Sam’s shoulders and yanks him back on his dick, punching a shout out of Sam’s mouth. “Yeah, it does.”

“I’m ready,” Sam says, rutting back on Dean’s dick. “Let’s get the show on the road.”

With a soft hum, Dean flits his fingers out then grips tight to Sam’s shoulders. “You got it, Sammy.”

Suddenly, Sam’s sliding up and down the map table as Dean jacks into him. It’s swift and frantic, Dean just going for it while Sam’s locked in place to take it. But he’s grinning through it, groaning with each stroke hitting him deep inside. Sam struggles to find purchase on the table as one hand gets stuck in the cake, sinking into two layers as Dean sinks deep into him.

He sighs, but then full-on laughs at the absurdity as he shoves the cake away.

Dean keeps fucking him, now yanking Sam back by the hips until he’s breathing loud and wet with the tell-tale signs of unravelling. So Sam squeezes on Dean’s dick and cants up with each thrust, then Dean suddenly shouts and desperately lunges deeper yet into Sam a few times before collapsing on Sam’s back.

When Sam reaches for his own dick to finish, Dean tuts and slaps Sam’s hand away. He’s sluggish to move as he slides out then spins Sam around before pulling Sam in with a strong grip around his neck and kisses him, tongue thick and warm, twirling with Sam’s. Dean’s other hand curls around Sam’s dick and tugs fast and dirty as he swallows every broken sound coming up through Sam’s throat. In a quick minute, Sam’s coming, thick ropes mixing with the white frosting.

When he’s got some of his mind back, he looks at the mess of his body and behind him to the frosting smeared all over. He groans, “Now I’m gross, too.”

“Calm down, Frances.”

“It’s not your ass that—”

Dean slaps Sam’s ass cheek. “It sure is mine.” He chuckles, happy and bright. “But I’ll help you clean up.”

Sam leans on the table and flicks buttercream off his hand then frowns when he takes in the spread of broken cake and frosting across the glass tabletop. “Good. Because this crap is everywhere.”

“Oh, I know.” Dean flits his eyebrows as he drags a finger through the mess on Sam’s dick and sucks it off with a moan. “We’ll take care of it.”

Lifting his chin, Sam dares him with a pointed look. “Oh yeah?”

Dean smacks him again and they both ignore where frosting flies this time. “Get your ass in the shower.”

Sam doesn’t have to be told twice …


End file.
